Looking for the right course to you
by simplyrambling
Summary: AU, 1860's. Sebastian is a captain of a trade ship. The story follows the crew on an ocean voyage, pitted against each other and threatened by the forces of nature. How will the captain juggle his disgruntled crew, delivering the cargo in good time, while sorting through his own head? And he isn't the only one who has to do some thinking, right Kurt? (for warnings look inside)
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **homophobia, violence, language, injury and blood, slight age difference, mentions of equality, human rights and racial issues, and also some sex :)

**A/N: **Huge thanks and a cargo hold full of cookies belongs to Olinka, who looks after me and my ramblings. Another shipping of cookies to Megan, for she inspired me and keeps me sane, and Holly, who lent her gift to create an art for my story.

Written for the kurtbastian bigbang 2012. I hope you'll enjoy the story, even though it will be posted in parts.

o0o

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The backstreet outside was quiet as usual at this time in the morning, yet Sebastian darted two quick looks to both sides, as he walked out of the door. One could never be careful enough. The fog was lifting, letting through the first rays of weak light, but it still offered cover from prying eyes if anyone woke up early in the mostly sleeping San Francisco.

Sebastian watched over his shoulder as a ridiculously frilly nightgown vanished behind the closed door and wisps of fog. His hand no longer inched to his hat. He had abandoned even that ironic gesture long time ago.

He turned around to make his way to the harbor, only to stumble over someone. Sebastian cursed, grabbing their arm and steadying both of them. A few other insults were ready on the tip of his tongue when a beautiful face of a young man came into his view,and a pair ofpiercing eyes looked up at him wide in surprise. He suddenly didn't know what to say.

His mind was sopreoccupied with the sight that he didn't notice thewords being spoken until the stranger'sarm was wrenched from his grip,and the distance between them grew. Now that Sebastian could see the man properly, it was obvious that he was barely in his twenties.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young man probably repeated, his voice a bit higher.

Sebastian remembered where he was and rightenedhimself, taking a step back too. Quick glance around revealed that they were alone, but that didn't stop his anger at himself for acting so stupidly. It wouldn't do to let his desiresshow in a situation he couldn't control. Even if the stranger's body was to die for, he wasn't eager to take an unnecessary risk.

"I'm sorry," the young man apologized again, although it sounded more like a dismissal. He seemed rather irritated than sorry, as he bent down to gather his belongings, which were scattered on the ground.

Sebastian quickly assessed him and calmed down a bit. Judging bythe way the strangerwas dressed, hedidn't seem like one of the local boys who would eagerly spread the gossip. He was probably some outsider looking for an adventure in a big city. In any case, Sebastian concluded, the most he could have seen was that horrible lacy thing.

All the while,the young man was grumbling to himself. "Mr. Schuester's might... the largest... still I can't... damn fog..." Sebastian didn't catch a lot of it,but hehad to smile nonetheless, seeing the anger the young man was directing at his knapsack.

Finished, the young man got up and gave a start when he turned to Sebastian. The latterquickly schooled his face not to show his amusement.  
"Look where you're going next time," he said gruffly, although he knew this was his fault too. To gain some control and impress the young man, he brushed off his jacket to draw attention to the quality material, which he was able to afford thanks tohis position as a captain.

There was a glint in the man's eyes,and he wasstraightening his back and pursinghis lips as though he wanted to argue,but after a moment he replied with a murmured 'yessir' and stepped out of the way.

Sebastian nodded and strode off to the main street. Turning the corner, he allowed himself to look back. To assess the potential danger, he told himself. From what he could tell,the young man wasn't interested in the house, for hewas still standing in the same spot, refastening his knapsack. Even huddled in the cold morning, his body was striking in its gentle beauty.

Sebastian rounded the corner, losing him from his sight, but not from his mind. Definitely not from his mind; he would make a good use of the image. The man's slender build was hiding the strength beneath, as proven by the biceps Sebastianhad grabbed. The captainindulged in thoughts about him while walking swiftly in the direction of the harbor where his ship was moored. It was a pity, he thought, that they had to sail off tomorrow. He wouldn't be opposed to a new conquest.

* * *

Although the morning was still cold, Sebastian decided to go over documents outside on the deck. Even the salty,rotten smell of the harbor was preferable to being cooped up in his cabin, when the weather remembered that it should be warm at the end of May. This way he could also keep an eye on the loading. The last of the provisions and cargo wasbeing loaded into the hold, and the men had been working hard since dawn to make everything ready, as the plan was to sail tomorrow.

To keep out of the way, he stayed at the helm and set the papers on the roof of the cabin, weighing them down against the light breeze. The lack of wind troubled him a bit. Between checking figures and going through the bills, Sebastian's eyes occasionally strayed across the roof toward the middle part of the deck and further to the bow. Everyone was busy,but he watched the crew for a moment because something seemed off. He hadn't paid much attention on his way in, only nodding to Wes, who oversaw the proceedings. Wes was a good mate and very capable of handling things on his own. Sebastian knew that he could rely on him. Hell, even Sebastian had to admit that Wes was more experienced,as he had been sailing much longer than Sebastian himself. Nevertheless, it couldn't hurt to check.

Sebastian was about to go to him when he was distracted by a familiar sight of tousled Blaine,his fine clothes wrinkled, striding down the pier.

"Too much sugar at dinner?" Sebastian called to Blaine's approaching form, capital S silently implied. "I don't remember giving you permission to sleep in."

"There's no such thing as too much sugar," Blaine returned with a grin. "Besides,I'm already working. Finally found a quality supply of lemons." He gestured to the shop boy pushing a cart behind him. At Sebastian's raised eyebrow, he added, "At a good price. As if you don't know me."

Blaine told the shop boy where to unload the crates, observing whether they weren't jostled too much and occasionally helping. "So," he addressed Sebastian, who had moved to the railing. "Which of the talented members of the chorus had the pleasure yesterday?"  
"You might not be familiar with the concept,but a true gentleman doesn't reveal such details about ladies." Sebastian smirked, emphasizing the last word. "Though rest assured that they were all hitting the high notes."

The shop boy fumbled the last crate and started apologizing, his ears red. Blaine helped him with it, laughing at his embarrassment. It was probably his goal from the start because he knew the answer to his question,as there were no secrets on this subject between him and Sebastian.

Sebastian returned to the papers, sorting out the ones he would need. The conversationabout high voicesbrought back the image of that young man he had met in the morning, and he couldn't get the memory out of his head.

While his thoughts were veering into a more graphic territory, the shop boy must have left because he was nowhere in sight when Blaine cleared his throat to get Sebastian's attention. Blaine stepped closer to the edge of the pier, so he didn't have to speak so loud.

"And those who can't hit high notes?" he asked with a wink.  
"I think I smell something burning," Sebastian gestured to a caboose, which occupied the small cabin at the foot of the fore-mast. "Shouldn't you attend to it? It might be your apron."  
"Sure thing, oh mighty captain," Blaine grinned and walked away to get on board.  
"You're asking for some flogging," Sebastian grumbled, annoyed that his little fantasy was interrupted, and turned to go searching for Wes.

As if reading his mind, Wes approached him at that moment, coming along the other side of the cabin, with an expression that didn't bode anything good.  
"We've lost part of our crew," he said without preamble. "I've just got a word back."  
"Shit. What happened?"  
"The new ones sneaked out last night when Thad was on watch,and he went after them. They got into a nasty brawl."

Although Wes kept to the bare facts, the look he was giving Sebastian made clear what was on his mind. It was the same argument they had over and over again: Wes didn't agree with the amount of freedom the crew had while in port. In fact, he would probably lock them all down inside the ship ifgiven the chance. However, Sebastian had worked hard through the years to assemble his crew,and after all there were strict rules. As a result,every crew memberknew what to expect from each other and avoided major problems so far. The new ones were always a weak point, though.

"We've dealt with worse things," Sebastian said, making a mental note to have a word with Thad. "So we need to replace the two?"  
"All three."

That was unfortunate because Thad was their carpenter. They really needed to sail off tomorrow, barring the wind would completely die down. And that was something Sebastian didn't want to consider. But as he had said, worse things had happened.  
While he was thinking of the possibilities, a name popped up in his brain that he had heard this morning. Sebastian collected the documents from the roof and turned to Wes.  
"I have to go into town anyway. Have someone run to Schuester and tell himthat I'll come by around noon to hire."

* * *

o0o

**A/N:** Although it is set in a certain historical era, please, let's be vague. I did my research, a disgustingly lot of it, but I'm no historian or professional sailor. From what I've learned, I know it is all probably possible, though possibly not probable. But shhh :)

Also I'm not attempting to write contemporary dialogue because that would be a hell of a lot more research with no good results (I know, I ventured there too) and I don't want to end up with a bad aaargh-piratey speech :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings: **homophobia, violence, language, injury and blood, slight age difference, mentions of equality, human rights and racial issues, and also some sex :)

o0o

* * *

**Chapter 2  
**

So far, the people Kurt had met in San Francisco didn't impress him. Their reaction to him was very much what he was used to in his hometown, and it made this place seem unpleasantly familiar. For what he knew, it might have been for different reasons, but he still got shoved and sneered at a lot. On the other hand, it somewhat diminished the overwhelming feeling he had had when the fog had lifted and uncovered all the unknown.

Kurt finally arrived at the right boarding house, and its owner, Mr. Schuester, did nothing to improve Kurt's first he acted friendly, Kurt couldn't miss a calculating look in his eyes when he heard about Kurt's plan to get hired on a ship. Mr. Schuester declared confidently that he would be able to find him a job in no time. However, it was promptly followed by an inquiry whether Kurt had enough money to pay for the lodgings. He also tried to sell Kurt unnecessary clothes and equipment that had been left at the house.

Sifting through Mr. Schuester's advice, it took Kurt all morning and cost him a lot of nerves to get together what he supposed he would need. In the end, he wasn't so sure if he succeeded in buying only what was necessary from Mr. Schuester's stash and a few shops that Mr. Schuester reluctantly recommended.

At noon, Kurt's stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since the evening before. He was about to ask Mr. Schuester where the dining hall was, money for the week's rent ready, when he was told to bring his documents into a small parlor next to the front door.

"You might get lucky today, boy," Mr. Schuester said, as Kurt met him outside the parlor. Without further explanation, Kurt was ushered inside.

After a brief moment of confusion, he concluded that someone would come to hire, judging by the group of men gathered in the room. Kurt nodded to no one in particular, as none of the faces was exactly welcoming, and took a free spot near one of the walls. Shuffling the documents and letters in his hands, he scanned the room furtively.

The men were dressed similarly in long pants and shirts, some of them wearing caps. They were holding their short jackets or even pea coats, no matter that it was almost June. Apparently, the weather in San Francisco had its own rules. Although they were talking among themselves, Kurt felt like everyone was watching and judging him for his homemade clothes.

The sound of the front door snapping shut brought Kurt out of his thoughts. He gripped the letters nervously. Hopefully, four years of helping in a doctor's office would stand for something, as he had no experience with ships. The memory brought with it the usual pain when his thoughts slipped to his father. It was still too early, so he focused on the present and a possible job. It wasn't a big chance, but he hoped for the best because his small amount of money got severely depleted that day.

Kurt looked toward the entrance, just when Mr. Schuester led a man inside. Immediately, his hopes plummeted because it was the same arrogant man whom he had stumbled into this morning while lost in the fog. There was no way Kurt would get hired by him after that.

As the man glanced around the room, his eyes landed on Kurt, and recognition flashed across his face. He smirked and continued walking to a small table on the other side of the room.  
Although Kurt wanted nothing more than to walk out of the room, he schooled his features in what he hoped was calm indifference and turned to face the man fully. He realized that Mr. Schuester was already speaking.  
"... were told, Captain Smythe needs a few hands on short notice, ready to leave for Hong Kong tomorrow morning."

The man – a captain something; Kurt didn't bother to remember his name – laid down some papers on the small table where a writing set was provided. He sat comfortably on a chair next to it, and with his long legs wide in front of him he seemed completely at ease, flaunting his superior position. It irritated Kurt, but he tried to ignore it, as the captain proceeded to survey the group of men critically while Mr. Schuester directed them.

At first, the captain was looking for someone with carpenter's skills, and he chose a tall bulky guy. Then the rest of the job seekers were asked to provide references as well. When it was Kurt's turn, he coldly handed over his documents and the two letters with recommendations that he had been clutching in his hand and looked squarely into the captain's eyes, back held straight.

The captain smirked again.  
"You sure you want to get hired on a ship?"  
"You sure you know how to do that?" Kurt retaliated without thinking and quickly bit his cheek.

There was some shuffling in the background, but the captain only raised an eyebrow and didn't comment, instead opting for a jab himself.  
"This isn't a job for little girls."

Although he was obviously joking, it was no better than the surly rebuke he aimed at Kurt this morning. Kurt didn't respond this time, but his fists balled up at his sides - he was fed up hearing such remarks all his life. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Ah, temper. At least you'll have some chance in fighting for your honor," the captain said, and the men laughed at that, siding with him naturally.

He opened the letters and started to read, his expression getting serious.

Kurt felt smug that he managed to wipe that grin off his face because the captain had no right to call him such names. After all, Kurt thought, he couldn't be much over 25 himself, and his face was not one of a scarred privateer. It was actually rather refined and handsome, Kurt had to admit.

The captain looked at him then, sizing him up for a moment until the corners of his lips lifted again.  
"I'd never peg you for a nurse."

They all laughed once more at Kurt's expense, as the captain returned his letters and waved him off to let the next guy approach. Kurt went to stand in his previous place, eagerly waiting for this to end, not in the mood to provide any more entertainment.

Soon the captain finished with the last guy and looked the small crowd over once more.  
"You got yourself a job, Coleman. Hummel, you too. Come here to sign."

Kurt stared at him in shock, not comprehending. As if from a distance, he could hear some of the men grumble and feet scuffing on the floor, but he was still standing on the spot.

"I expect my orders to be followed. Or are you not capable of it?" The captain's voice was mocking.  
"Of course, I am, captain..." Kurt floundered because he couldn't remember the name. He quickly walked to the table where Mr. Schuester was already showing the two other guys where to put their signature or anything that stood for it.

Thankfully, the captain's name, Smythe, was on the document. Kurt quietly read the rest before adding his name under a list of others, Karofsky and Coleman being the last. He couldn't do anything about the conditions stated there, but he felt better knowing that at least it didn't differ much from what he had been told to expect. From now on, he would be basically the captain's property for the next several months until the journey ended, one way or another.

Kurt couldn't help but hesitate for a second when signing because the vastness of the ocean scared him a bit. But he had been aware of the risks when he had made his decision all those months ago, and he wouldn't back off now.

Captain Smythe gathered the papers then and got up.  
"I assume that you have everything you're going to need," he addressed Kurt mainly, his eyes lingering a bit too long on his body, undoubtedly judging his homemade clothes. When Kurt nodded stiffly along with the other two, the captain added, "Get your things quickly and meet me here." He then turned to Mr. Schuester who was still hovering behind him.

Leaving the room, Kurt could hear them discuss some sort of fee, and from what he heard he was glad that he hadn't paid for the lodgings yet. Surely, he wouldn't get anything back.

Shortly after that, they were all gathered again and set out on their way to the docks. Apart from some sturdy clothes, Mr. Schuester had advised Kurt to buy a chest to keep his belongings safe. The chest was heavy, made of wood, and weighed down with the new clothes. The rest of Kurt's possessions remained in the knapsack, banging against his back, while he hurried to keep up with the captain's long strides. The two others threw him suspicious glances all the time, occasionally laughing when he struggled with his baggage.

On one of the street corners, Captain Smythe halted to greet a pair of ladies in elaborate attire, and Kurt was able to shorten the distance they gained on him.  
"...because of his pretty face..." Kurt heard the end of what Karofsky had been saying, when he caught up with them.

Kurt quickly pretended to be busy with hoisting up the chest and looked towards the captain who seemed to be well acquainted with the ladies, seeing that he kissed their hands and flirted with them, while they were giggling. It didn't come as a surprise to Kurt that Captain Smythe was a ladies' man. After all, the way he had left the one from this morning was an indication enough.

Even though Kurt tried not to pay attention to the other two, he stood quite close and could hear their crude jokes about what they would do to the ladies instead of kissing hands. Kurt wasn't new to such remarks, and although he had no interest in women, he hated vulgar comments aimed at them nonetheless.

The captain said his goodbyes and returned to the three of them.  
"Everybody here?" He looked pointedly at Kurt and, not waiting for an answer, set off at a brisk pace again. Karofsky and Coleman sneered at Kurt, the pecking order setting in already.  
Without a word, Kurt got a better hold of the chest, mimicking their posture, and followed the captain. It was much easier to carry it that way. Encouraged by this little success, he quickened his steps not to get lost in the busy bustle on the street.

* * *

Finally, they made it to the docks, and Kurt got his first look at what was to become his home for the next few months. The ship was huge. She must have been much over a hundred feet long. Kurt didn't want to think how tall the three masts were and how high he would have to climb. His only source of information about sailors' life was all the stories he had heard. One climbed, pulled on ropes and spun the steering wheel, he thought. He felt all itchy that he knew so little and he couldn't wait to learn more. Knowledge was fun; it also gave him the upper hand and usually helped him get out of unpleasant situations.

He appraised the ship as they got nearer. Her name, Warbler, stood proudly on the bow. Despite her size, she looked graceful. The wood of the hull was dressed in elegant black paint on the outside. The deck was only lacquered, and it was currently open in the middle where men were hauling boxes through a large hatch to store them inside.

There were two cabins, one small by the fore-mast and a larger one that occupied most of the back end of the ship between the last mast and the helm, leaving only narrow passages on both sides along the railing. It seemed a bit low though, and Kurt was sure that a man couldn't stand in there upright.

By then, they all climbed on board, and Captain Smythe addressed them, "You can settle in later, just leave your stuff in bunks and report to Montgomery, immediately." He pointed at the man standing on the deck and directing the loading. "You'll follow his or Thompson's orders as if they were from me." He pointed at another tall figure that just ducked behind one of the boxes on the pier.

Kurt moved to follow the orders quickly, partly because he wanted to put down the chest. He started in the direction of the cabin in the back.  
"Where do you think you're going?" the captain asked, amusement clear on his face.  
"Uh, bunks?" Kurt stopped, unsure.  
"Then you'd want to look for the foxl," the captain offered helpfully and added, "If you can find your way there."

The two others laughed as Kurt scanned the deck, never having heard the word before. The other cabin was too small, but there were a few hatchways, one of them near the bow. Before he could take a step, he was distracted by the captain's stare and realized he had been biting his lip again while thinking.  
The captain shook his head slightly and nodded in the direction of the bow, confirming Kurt's guess. He then turned to Coleman and Karofsky, no longer smiling.  
"That order was meant for you too. I'm not paying you to laugh at my jokes."

Despite their glares, Kurt felt some satisfaction when they shut up and hurried to obey. He followed them to the hatch and down into smelly darkness.

When Kurt's eyes finally adjusted to the little light that got in, Karofsky and Coleman had already chosen bunks, apparently familiar with the layout. Kurt looked around the cramped space that seemed to be used to store equipment, too. They were obviously in the bow, right under the deck. Two rows of bunks ran on either side of the hull. Kurt found the last free one. It wasn't very large.

"Don't make yourself at home," Karofsky said at the moment that Kurt was lowering the chest to the floor. "You won't be here for long."  
Kurt stopped, confused.  
"There's a noose waiting for you to get caught sneaking into someone else's bunk."

Kurt felt heat rising in his cheeks, and he almost dropped the chest.  
"You!" He was shaking with anger, trying not to blurt anything that might be dangerous. "You disgusting-" He stopped before saying any more, calming himself down, and the confusion in his head cleared a bit. They couldn't know anything; there was no need to give them any excuses.

Kurt straightened and proceeded to unload his belongings without sparing them a glance.  
They just joked, amused by his anger and headed back out. Kurt hurried to follow, a little worried how the rest of the crew will react to him.

What surprised Kurt was that there were only four more to man such a big ship. They were mostly indifferent to him, focused on their work, which was a relief under the circumstances. But Karofsky found another one who shared jokes on Kurt's behalf every time Kurt was at a loss of what to do.

Kurt didn't let them make him upset and kept calm, promising himself not to show any weakness. Despite that he got a little annoyed by the captain, as the latter kept watching him. Kurt hated how self-conscious it made him until he noticed that the captain was also checking the work of the other two hired that day. He had to laugh at himself.

The afternoon flew by quickly. At first, Kurt was mostly in the hold, hauling boxes and securing them so that they wouldn't move. It was a dark and dank place. When everything was stored to the likings of the mate, Mr. Montgomery or Wes as most of the crew called him, they moved on to do the last check of the ship. It was exciting,and Kurt tried to remember as much as possible, but there was so much of new information.

They were just finishing with clearing the deck when Kurt heard his name being spoken. He looked in that direction and saw Captain Smythe talking to Mr. Thompson who he had pointed out earlier. The captain motioned for Kurt to come over.  
When Kurt reached them, the captain smirked and spoke to the other.  
"Dr. Thompson, I got you a nurse."

Kurt bristled at first because the lady jokes were getting old, but then the whole sentence registered with him. The man's title hadn't been mentioned before, and Kurt's interest was peaked because he had never met a black doctor.  
"Good," was Dr. Thompson's only response, although the look he aimed at the captain was weirdly exasperated.  
"You're no fun, David," the captain said and turned to Kurt. "It's just Thompson then for you. Nevertheless, he'll be the doctor to your nurse, as he's in charge of the limbs-cutting stuff. Let's see if you deliver what the letters boasted."

Captain Smythe led them around the cabin to the helm and through an open hatchway down several steps that led inside. Kurt looked around quickly, expecting some kind of infirmary, but that wasn't the case.

The cabin was lowered under the deck's level, quite spacious and definitely better smelling than the bunks. The late afternoon light was streaming through rows of small windows under the roof. There was a bunk on each side, as well as built-in closets and shelves for books. There was a small secretary to his right next to the steps, the top of it open and overflowing with papers. By the opposite wall was a table, full of maps and more papers. It must have been the captain's cabin then.

"David," the captain said, motioning to Mr. Thompson, and sat down in the chair next to the secretary, taking some lists from the pile. Mr. Thompson bent down to unfasten and pull a chest from under the bunk next to the stairs. He opened it and beckoned to Kurt. It was clearly the ship's medical stock. It was not rich, but the essentials seemed to be there.

The captain and Mr. Thompson were both looking at him, waiting, so Kurt knelt beside the chest. He poked around in it, lifting vials and telling for what they were supposed to be. He skipped a few, mostly unlabeled ones. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a silent conversation going on, and then Mr. Thompson shrugged.

Kurt didn't want to be impolite, so he focused back on the contents of the chest, rummaging inside.  
"Do you have any...?" Kurt didn't finish, as he found what he was looking for. It wasn't in a very good condition.

Captain Smythe ended another silent exchange with a shrug of his own and addressed Kurt, "If you turn out useful, there might be a bonus."

Kurt started to suspect that he could have asked for a higher pay, which was maybe what caused his bout of bravery.  
"I have lots of experience, but don't expect miracles with this," he said, getting up and pointing at the chest. Then he plastered a sweet smile on his face and added, "Anything else I can do for you, captain?"  
To Kurt's further annoyance, Captain Smythe didn't seem bothered, his face quirking into that irritating smile.

At that moment, a man, whose name Kurt thought was Blaine, entered the open hatchway, coming down the steps with ease and carrying a tray with three dishes. Kurt had been wondering where he had disappeared. He wasn't sure what to think of him, as he only knew that they would be on the same watch. But the man had been smiling at Kurt every time their eyes met over the boxes, and that was not a reaction Kurt was used to.

"Dinner is served."  
"And what delicacy are you offering today, Anderson?" the captain asked.  
So he was a cook, this Anderson. The information didn't help Kurt much, though, to explain his behavior.  
"I thought we could welcome our new addition with something special," Anderson said, winking at Kurt, confusing him even more. Was he flirting?  
He set the dishes where Mr. Thompson had cleared a small space on the table.  
"Thanks," Captain Smythe said curtly, no longer smiling. Kurt was surprised by the sudden change, and he could see Anderson whip his head to look at the captain and immediately adjust his attitude.  
"Of course, captain," he said, all playfulness gone from his voice. "Wes will be here in a minute." Without another glance he climbed out.

Kurt was standing there, puzzled, when the captain dismissed him, busy with ordering the stacks of papers. Mr. Thompson's expression didn't give Kurt a clue either, so he got back on the deck, trailing after Anderson.

The sun was already setting, and shadows crept over the docks. Most of the men were lazing around. Kurt could see a game of cards laid out on the now sealed hatch that led to the hold.  
Anderson seemed to be back in his cheerful mood, heading towards the bow.  
Kurt stopped at the railing, wondering if there were any other orders. Mr. Montgomery left, and nobody seemed to be in charge.

"Get your hungry asses here," Anderson shouted, poking his head out of the little cabin. The crew didn't need to be told twice after a whole day of hard work.  
The evening was warm, and they all sat on the deck after the meal was distributed. The old crew knew each other well, judging by the inside jokes that floated around from time to time.

On the fringe, Karofsky was seated next to a man with a mohawk, the one who laughed at Kurt. Coleman sidled with them, laughing at their jokes and sometimes joining with his own. For some unknown reason, he gave Kurt the heebie jeebies. Not that Kurt appreciated the way the others taunted him, but this one was downright creepy. To avoid the trio, Kurt sat on the other side of the group, leaving some space as not to intrude on their conversation. Watching the crew, he found out that it wasn't unusual for Anderson to smile, and that set him at ease a little.

* * *

The day had been long and exhausting. Kurt's whole body ached, and he wanted to sleep. He had been on the road for a couple of days, and since his arrival that morning he hadn't stopped moving. But the foxl or whatcha-call-it was too crowded and too loud that he had to escape at least for a while. It didn't help that Coleman slept in a bunk next to his.

Kurt was leaning on the railing, studying the masts and all the lines and ropes and wondering how it would feel being high up there. If he was honest, he would have admitted worrying too. Until today, it had been only an idea, but now he was really going to do it. Even though he wasn't sure what 'it' entailed exactly.

The night was getting colder, and he contemplated going to bed but decided to stay away from the stuffy air for a bit longer. Something touched his calf, rubbing against it. Kurt jumped slightly, jerking his leg away from it, and bent down to see what was going on.  
A pair of curious eyes was staring at him from a little ball of yellow fur.  
"Hey you," Kurt cooed at the cat and extended his leg in an offer of peace. "What's your name?" It purred and resumed nuzzling into his leg.

"You made a friend already," Anderson approached them and sat on the railing beside Kurt. "I'm jealous. I thought I'd be the first one." He held out a hand. "My name's Blaine."

So he had been right, Kurt thought, Anderson's name was Blaine.  
"Kurt."  
"You know that you don't have to be on watch yet?" Blaine asked hesitantly.  
"I know. I can remember a couple of simple rules."

The reply came out a bit more annoyed than Kurt intended, but after a whole day being ridiculed, his hackles were at the ready, and he was gearing up for more, "I think I can even manage to follow the oh so complex pattern of changing between the two watches every four hours."  
"Whoa, calm down." Blaine was smiling at him, but it was the kind, warm-hearted smile that wasn't mocking. It made Kurt stop his tirade.  
"Yeah, sorry," he said a little embarrassed.  
"It's okay. The first day is always difficult." Blaine was looking at him with genuine interest. "You can come to me if you need help with anything."

Meeting someone who cared felt like a warm blanket after a day in cold wind.  
"Thanks," Kurt said, ducking his head, some of the tension leaving him. He felt like he could tell this man anything. He wanted to tell him it wasn't just that it was his first day but all the other things that had happened. He didn't though. Even if he might have finally found someone who would understand him, trusting a stranger would be stupid, and he prided himself on being clever.

Instead, he changed the topic pointing at the cat that curled up around his feet.  
"What's it called?"  
"Pavarotti. Don't ask me. Sebastian named him," Blaine bent down to scratch at the cat's ears. "He's a champion hunter. Keeps the rats in check."

Kurt wasn't happy at the reminder of rats, but something else caught his attention.  
"Sebastian?" he asked when he couldn't think to which of the new faces the name belonged.  
"Oh, the captain. His name is Sebastian."  
It came as a surprise that such a rude, arrogant person would care about cats. In the end, Kurt decided that it was an accident most likely.

They chatted for awhile, and apart from other things Blaine explained to him that foc's'le was just short for forecastle, a name that stuck from the layout of older ships. When Kurt got back inside, after saying goodnight to Blaine who was on guard, he felt much better. Guided by the little light from a single lantern, he changed to go to sleep, but as he was climbing into his bunk, he found out that his blankets were wet. He looked around, but nobody was paying him attention, some already snoring.

He sighed and went to hang the blankets to dry on a rope that ran across the room. Luckily, the mattress was spared, but he would have to sleep under his coat tonight.

Nothing ever changed. One nice person was just an exception to the rule.

* * *

The new day dawned bright and windy, clearing the morning fog pretty early. Kurt felt optimistic and ready to properly start a new chapter in his life, one that promised so many new things to explore. It was a long time since this kind of energy had filled him.

After breakfast, most of them were gathered near the middle of the deck, waiting. Kurt leaned his back against the railing; resting on his elbows, he looked up, watching the sky cut into pieces by crisscrossing ropes. The seemingly endless ropes weren't as intimidating once he figured out how the sails worked. He had made sure to pay attention the day before and felt confident.

His palm slid back and forth on the railing, fingers tracing indentations in the wood. It was weirdly calming. The unmistakable smell of the harbor started to drift along with the wind, as the morning grew warmer. Kurt couldn't help but glance in the direction of the bow from time to time, where Captain Smythe had been standing alone for a while now, facing up too. His clothes were plainer than the attire he had worn yesterday, resembling more the clothes of the crew. Although the shirt and pants weren't new, they fit him nicely at least, Kurt thought resentfully. Even from the distance, Kurt could tell that the captain was smiling slightly while running his hand over the railing. Kurt stopped his own hand and quickly straightened.

As if on cue, when the captain left the bow, Mr. Montgomery and Thompson came from the helm. Kurt wondered if he had missed some signal. The bell for eight o'clock had been rung a while ago, technically marking the end of Kurt's watch, so that wasn't it. The thought that they probably just knew each other so well made Kurt wistful because he had never really belonged anywhere. He quickly stopped that train of thought, focusing on here and now.  
"Let's go, gentlemen," the captain, oddly cheerful, addressed them all. "Our mistress is calling."

One by one, the sails went up, heavy canvas unfurling, while the ship was slowly slipping past the docks. The crew worked well together. Coleman and Karofsky joined them easily, which made Kurt a bit self-conscious due to his lack of appropriate skills. He didn't have to climb up yet, and for that he was glad, but he believed that he could hold his own on the deck. Mr. Montgomery obviously thought so too because he had told him earlier to tie the rope after they had lifted one of the triangular sails in the front. This knot Kurt knew well, so he had carefully fastened the rope and hurried for further instructions. A small part of him childishly wanted Karofsky and others to acknowledge this, but Karofsky was occupied in the back and couldn't see it.

They worked steadily with the captain at the steering wheel. Kurt had already had to abandon the notion of him standing idly by, while the crew slaved, so Kurt at least expected him to shout all the time and command everyone. Although there were orders, the shouting was because of the distance and mostly done by Mr. Montgomery.

When they started hauling up one of the main sails, it took most of the crew at two ropes. Chanting in rhythm, they lifted what could have been once a pretty decent tree trunk, which currently held the sail. Kurt was mesmerized by the sound they made together. He joined tentatively on the chorus at first and realized it made it easier to sync with the others' movements. After that, he tried to hum at least when he didn't know the words.

Even with only some of her sails up, the ship was moving at a considerable speed.

"Watch out!"  
Kurt was nearly knocked down when Coleman ran by him. He turned and saw the small sail he had tied tumbling down and someone being buried under it. Immediately, he rushed to the spot to help.

A mix of confusion and worry filled him. He couldn't see what he had done wrong, but what if someone got hurt because of him?

* * *

o0o

**A/N: **So, farewell San Francisco, Hong Kong here we come. Or do we? We'll see :)

Hm, what do you think? I hope you'll enjoy reading, as I loved writing it. I mean despite the occasional bouts of despair and writing blocks :)


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